Rain Harlow
patreon
(Vol 5) Chapter 49: Serving the Highest Honor
🕑 Added 2024-06-21 14:58:55 +0000 UTCGelmak Por sweated and suffered in silence on the watership, grateful for every little uptick of the breeze that happened to blow and provide some tiny relief from the sweltering heat of the southern sun. There wasn’t much wind right then, and the ship sailed like a snail. He could not fathom how all of the little humans ran around on the wooden construct and worked in the heat at all, but then the south was for their kind, not his.
To think, I enjoyed the hot springs and saunas, and this is much the same, yet I'm not too fond of it. I guess it's a ‘duration’ thing. Eventually, one leaves a sauna.
The mesmerizing oddity of the ocean was some solace to him. Of further interest was the thick fog surrounding them for the last hour. Was it supposed to be so hot in the fog? He had no idea. Perhaps that was why saunas used steam? The waters were being especially mean if they were making things even hotter than usual.
The fascination with the waters was something that had in large part made him a hero among his people — blessed and special, to lack the special terror that made them unable to proceed in or over the waters. Only a small number of minotaurs throughout history could manage it, perhaps a few in a thousand years. All would be encouraged to adventure, which in but a few cases meant an early grave, too.
Not so for Gelmak Por! Into prime age, he’d achieved very much in exploration. He’d been a marine among the Spirit’s Kin of Valuwei and Yanpur, wrestled with polar bears surviving on the bleak glaciers east and west, and beaten the mysterious Yeti in battle. He’d beaten many, many things in battle. He’d escaped from a Maldakaru — a giant of the frost — and lived to tell the tale of their might.
It was his proudest accomplishment despite losing, as it was pronounced by the Taletellers as a new legend. He’d sworn to return if he ever achieved maximum level, to defeat it and magnify his legend. He was certain it would be a challenge even for the mightiest.
Well, that’s a ways off. I’ll probably die before then. Not too dumb of an oath, as youthful oaths go.
As a budding hero, he’d managed through the glory of his deeds to obtain the attention of Den Wa Koharra, the Zedwar of The Forge, Axes, and Hammers and Gelmak Por’s distant ancestor. He was blessed in the Zedwar’s simple way with an enchanted axe, and then bid to take the trek to Mount Gauz and be blessed by Zedwara Elkei Oeswa-Bessi, who blew smoke into his face and named him worthy as a [Templar].
Then she spoke words that made him weep for the honor: he would be The Emissary of The Petrified Brood, and thus a representative of all minotaurkind and their Zedwarorra, to the Lands of Bright and Green. Nu’Rammata would be told his name and speak to him when he awoke. His adventuring days in the random seas were over, but his legends would grow in time in lands no minotaur had ever been.
On that ship deck, Gelmak Por felt a bit like he was still in a dream, a daze, for only a few years later, it happened — Father Mountain awoke from his long sleep and The Deciding Days progressed. His words, like Calren Zod itself making earthquakes into strangely perceivable flashes of meaning, were fairly simple:
“Go to Little Sister. Deliver the code. Explain to her we must speak. Serve and obey Little Sister from now until The End. You march. The mountains march with you. You serve the highest honor — you serve preservation.”
I can still scarcely believe I am so honored. I wish I had focused more on advancing, now. So much idle time was wasted in my youth, with me not realizing what a sacred task I would inevitably undertake. I may have fought off the mightiest of giants, but The Emissary should be one that defeated such.
The trickster Gaena Diashi had blessed him with the Vest of Looking As Others, making him appear to be simply a rather large human. The Esta-Shonwar Ghalameen — the most blessed devotee of Nu’Rammata — had given him the Belt of Flesh Like Mountains, to make his toughness supreme.
Most important of all, he had the Necklace of Ballooning For Salvation, which would act as a floatation device if he fell into the waters. That was a gift from his mother. His Armbands of Ballooning For Salvation had become very old, with one of them damaged and of questionable salvation capacity.
Thank you, Moomy! You’re so thoughtful.
For Little Sister, he had a backpack with two gifts, one each from the two other greatest Zedwarorra. The code and his undying service was the third, from Father Mountain.
Various items in tow, Gelmak Por had set out on the long, long trek south, first making it to the island of Trinical where unusual voyages could be bartered. The crusty captain and his mates were first amazed by the sack of gold he offered, and then even more so with the enchantment gems to go into the eye sockets of the ship’s figurehead.
A rare Endeavor Woodfish Wriggle Thricely enchantment. Made aeons ago, the language translation was a bit lacking, but it would work fine to triple the ship’s speed.
Both had been needed to convince them to sail down the world to Caneboro. The buff had done wonders to kill the time issue, and the wind was even nice for the heat. Unfortunately, its buffing before a long cooldown had not taken them all the way and they’d stalled out with many days to go.
Gelmak Por, under the name ‘Sailman,’ (he’d forgotten the need until the last moment) told them he’d finance whatever enchantment they could get at the next port, but one with such services remained twelve hours out.
He became aware suddenly of the humans doing their shouting and such more vigorously than usual. When he turned, he noticed them pointing and exclaiming in apparent dismay at another ship, visible some distance away in the gradually lightening fog.
It took him a few moments to figure out from their words that it was an enemy vessel that meant them harm.
Hmm! ‘Pirates,’ they say. Like water raiders. Thieves. Will they try and board to steal things? I’m not okay with this custom. They could steal my things meant for Little Sister. Or the gold I paid for the trip. I can’t let them do that. Is it a blood-for-blood thing or fisticuffs-based roughhousing? I’ve heard conflicting tales…
As he stood and watched the crew scramble and the marines prepare crossbows of various sizes, a volley of flaming arrows arced up from the other ship, to rampant cursing and calls to take cover from the crew.
Gelmak Por caught an arrow that was going to just miss him. It had a rather strange fiery head, a bit like a basket. He shrugged and threw it overboard. Glancing around, he noted the crew was dealing with the fire rather well, so maybe it wasn’t a big deal.
Some more arrows and bolts were exchanged. One man got an arrow in his arm and cried out. Blood could be seen leaking onto his other hand gripping the wound.
Under the illusion, Gelmak Por’s nostrils flared. Okay, they’re drawing blood! I’m going to have to punish them for such an offense against sworn allies. They could be killed, and humans don’t try to kill each other unless hate-fighting viciously, such as in war or marriage.
Gelmak Por huffed and began toward the other side, calling out, “Clear out from me and make way!” in a voice perhaps a bit too loud even for a giant manling. The men definitely heard and moved out of his way, alarm in their eyes.
He pulled out his bronze axe Chopper of Many Sizes as he got a bit of a running start, then hurled it across the distance, aiming at the pirate ship on a particular curved path. The spinning axe grew rapidly with each rotation, until finally it was as big edge-to-edge as he was.
Some spell came from the enemy watership to try and deflect the axe with force, but it exploded and failed. The axe slammed into the vessel just above the surf at a downward angle, and the giant metal weapon caused a veritable explosion as the wood caved inward effortlessly. More cracking and bursting sounds could be heard from below, somewhat muted.
The watership immediately pitched sideways and capsized from the catastrophic damage, crew spilling into the ocean. Meanwhile, the axe came out of the water some distance away on the other side, spinning and shrinking as it sped back to its owner’s hand. By this time, the enemy watership was fast on its way to sinking into the water, though the matter was hardly instantaneous.
He caught the axe in the air. “Looks like I stopped them!” Then he looked around at a stunned crew staring wide-eyed at him in disbelief. “Oh. Oh no.” He winced. “Was that… not okay?”
A riotous cheer erupted, hats being thrown in the air and victorious utterances resounding. It took him a moment to verify they were approving, even though it seemed like it. Human faces were strange, as were their confusing sounds at times. He’d been warned about something called ‘sarcasm’ for instance — which was totally impossible to detect — so he had to be careful.
But people were grabbing and clapping his shoulders, telling him things like ‘Way to go, big man!’ and ‘Sailman gave ‘em hell!’ and he put it all together as being what it seemed.
He thrust his axe up and gave a big guttural bellow, which made them respond even more. “Ha, yes, down with naughty thieves! Gel- Sailman is the best pirate stopper! Haha! Tell your friends, please!”
✦•············•✦•···········•✦
As soon as Sammy popped back onto her throne, floating on a disk waiting for her was the newish Cat Sith ‘Sancus’ — basically her lawyer. True to form, the black cat had on a three-piece suit. Also true to form, he was caught cleaning himself right as she noticed him.
“Your Majesty,” Sancus began, on a dime not licking himself — Had he ever been, really? — and looking very respectable, actually. “I hope your day is going well. We have largely come to a happy impasse dealing with the Zadkiel contract — I think we have a reasonable deal in place, but just need finishing touches and verification from you in order to finalize the agreement.”
Sammy drummed her fingers and narrowed her eyes. “Okay, what does he want?”
“First allow me to detail what we’ve obtained,” Sancus said — in a poof of smoke, glasses appeared on his eyes and a long contract unrolled from his hands aaaaaall the way down to the floor. “Mm-hmm… yes… and that… aha!” He looked up at her. “Everything.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
Sammy did a little ‘could you elaborate’ motion with her hands. “Uh huh…”
“All that you asked for, Madam. Most principally, acknowledgment of your higher authority, including military-style wartime hierarchical obedience, with you as the Commander In Chief. His only amendment is that you agree to hear out his advice and the advice of his generals, and incorporate them with your overall strategic plan. Sensible measures, but you or your authorized representative retain the final decisions.
“Instead of direct compulsion which you’ve indicated you don’t want, we’ve conspired you to have the power to imprison him again — with some allowances — if he violated terms, or optionally other possible punishments as you see fit. He’s agreed to lend his authority in such a case, with a directive to his realm to obey you… based on agreed-upon identities that suit the situation. To this, he is flexible.”
“He’s thinking I’ll utilize a new Puck identity in the Land of Naug.”
“Correct.”
Sammy frowned. “I’m surprised he agreed. Okay, I’m sure there’s a ton of great allowances, but tell me what he wants now.”
“Mmph. Very well. Take note he expects some flexibility here — his words exactly.” He flipped through a few pages. “Here we are. Agreement to betroth him to a restored Redberry, a ceremony to be stipulated by her in the precise timing, possibly with requirements.”
Sammy slapped the throne arm. “That motherfucker! I swear, I am going to kill him!”
____________________________________________________________
« (Vol 5) Chapter 48 | Table of Contents | (Vol 5) Chapter 50: Calm, Cool, and Collected »
____________________________________________________________
